


better latte than never

by funnefatale



Category: Marvel, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Coffee Shops, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 07:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21352798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnefatale/pseuds/funnefatale
Summary: "What the Valhalla," she says, staring down at the container in her hands, "Is this?""A vanilla latte," Thor answers as if it were obvious.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	better latte than never

**Author's Note:**

> written for thorkyrie week day 4/5: comfort + tropes

She wants to be absolutely clear on a few things: 

Does she understand why Thor spent five years in a drunken haze after Thanos murdered so many of the people Thor had just saved from Hela and Ragnarok? Of course. Does she know why he had to get away once he was able to find sobriety, leaving all of New Asgard for her to (continue to) rule in his stead? Better than most people could ever understand. Did she expect him to eventually put the pieces together and realize that his rightful place, the place where he truly wants to be, is actually alongside her in New Asgard? Absolutely. 

Did she expect his realization and, thus his return, to include plans to open his very own Starbucks? Not once.

"I would never open a _Starbucks_," he practically spits the last word, as if it were the most offensive thought she could possibly have. "Starbucks is far too corporate. Too Midgardian. We need something else. Something for Asgardians. Something that encompasses our traditions, our needs."

"Our Asgardian need… for coffee?"

"Aye," he beams. And then, without prompt, announces, "As-Cafe."

She wonders, not for the first time, how this lug of a man convinced her to abandon her (comparatively) normal life on Sakaar for this.

  
  
  


In his defense, Thor still does the non-coffee shop work required of him. He joins her on diplomacy meetings, works on projects that could boost their economy, and even volunteers with the classes set up to teach children their history. He may not be the same man she left Asgard with, but he's come a long way from the one who left her on New Asgard. 

Except for his obsession with that damned coffee shop of his.

"You cannot spend all night doing this," she tells him the third time she finds him putting up the frames to the building at two in the morning. "You need to sleep, Thor." 

"No," he says as his jogs past her, holding the equivalent of a whole tree's worth of wood. "What I _need _is coffee," he explains as if it were an actual solution to sleep. "So what I need is a place to obtain coffee. And what better place than As-Cafe?"

She rolls her eyes and walks away, deciding that he's clearly driven himself to insanity and there's nothing she can do now.

  
  
  


Of course he has the nerve to show up early to their meeting the next morning, smiling brighter than any right he has to after working all night.

  
  
  


"I quit," she growls, slamming her hands on the table. “The Aris people will never agree to this.” She shoves the documents away from her. "I'm a warrior, not a damned politician. I can't do this." 

Thor walks into the room and, without missing a beat, says, "You absolutely can do this." 

"You don't even know what I'm talking about." 

She needs a drink, she thinks, and glares at the documents, willing them to turn into a bottle.

A metal thermos appears in front of her face instead. She takes a breath and instantly recognizes the smell: coffee. Of course. It isn't alcohol, but she supposes it'll do. 

She takes his offering as he takes his seat beside her But instead of coffee, she's hit with a very sweet, very milky concoction. "What the Valhalla," she says, staring down at the container in her hands, "Is _this_?"

"A vanilla latte," Thor answers as if it were obvious. 

She purses her lips. "I drink black coffee."

He flips through the documents she's given up on and shrugs. "I know," he says. "But I was testing this recipe and didn't have time to make a fresh pot. I assumed you would rather I arrive on time than with your preferred form caffeine."

She purses her lips. He isn't wrong. Caffeine is caffeine and their time is much more valuable. Especially when Thor tells her that he spent a few years studying with the current Prince of Ariston, so he might be able to call in a favor. Which means this stupid treaty she just spent weeks on suddenly has a chance of actually working. 

They’re a good team, she thinks, watching him review her work. It may be only the two of them, but with him back by her side, they’ll be able to do so much more for their people. For all of New Asgard. 

"The sweetener is wrong," she says abruptly. He looks up at her, clearly confused. She clears her throat and tells him, "For the latte, I mean. Use honey. It'll taste a bit like mead then. More of an Asgardian flavor." 

His eyes widen and he grins and she thinks okay, _fine_, maybe this coffee shop isn't such a horrible idea. 

It can't be if it makes him this happy.

  
  
  


Literal god or not, Thor cannot go on like this: working on New Asgard all day, building his stupid coffee shop at night. Though he starts strong (likely due to drinking too much coffee), the lack of sleep begins to eventually wear on him. He stops arriving early to their meetings, blanks on basic facts while teaching classes, and even his movements slow town when he trains. The day after he almost sleeps through Queen Nakia's visit, she decides enough is enough. 

"Four night nights," she says when she shows up to the construction site. "I'll trade you two nights for four nights." 

Thor stares at her as if she’s just spoken gibberish. "What?" 

She rolls her eyes. "I'll help you two nights a week in exchange for you sleeping four nights." 

He stares at her for a moment, as if he's debating her offer. At the start of the project, she thinks he would have rejected it immediately. His hesitation now proves that even he knows he can't keep going like this. He needs to sleep.

Eventually he responds, "Two nights for two nights."

"Three. Final offer," she says. "We both know it'll still be a net gain for you." 

He grins, clearly agreeing with her logic, and holds his hand out. "Thank you," he says when she takes it. "I know you're busy so this means a lot." He pauses for a beat and, before she can say anything, adds, "You might even say it means a _latte_."

She drops his hand. "I changed my mind. Deal's off." 

He laughs, loud and thunderous, and even she can't help but smile just a little.

  
  
  


“It’s a horrible name,” she tells him when they get started. “You really ought to call it something else.”

Thor gives her the same offended look he had when she referred his precious coffee shop as a Starbucks. “It’s a great name.”

She rolls her eyes. “It literally sounds like Ass Cafe.”

“It’s _As_-Cafe,” he snaps. She stares at him and a beat passes. His face falls and he seems to finally hear it. Quickly, he shakes it off and frowns disapprovingly at her. “Shut up. No one else is going to think that.”

She laughs. “They most definitely will.”

  
  
  


“Oh my god,” Korg says three days later when Thor tells him about the coffee shop. “You’ve named it Ass-Cafe?” 

He looks aghast. “I very clearly said _As_-Cafe, not ass!” 

“Yeah, no,” Korg says. “I definitely heard ass. You said ass.”

“I did not!”

She smirks. “Told you.”

Thor scowls. 

  
  
  


The thing about helping him with his coffee shop is that it means she has to spend a ridiculous amount of time with him. Not that she didn't before — between all the work New Asgard needs she hardly goes a few hours, much less a whole day, without being around him — but this is different. Now she's spending time with _ just _him. No foreign treaties, no reports of the economy, no lesson plans. 

Just him and her and the entire night. 

And because he's Thor, it's not as if he's capable of spending that time just working in complete silence. 

He tells her stories of his childhood, of what Asgard was like after she left. About who he was before Odin banished him to Midgard and who he became as a result. He tells her about the friends he's had and those he's lost. About Heimdall and Loki. Then he tells her of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, and then about Jane and her band of genius Midgardians. 

But what he doesn't tell her, what he never talks about, are the years that came after. The years she's known him for, the years they've lived on New Asgard. 

It's possible he bypasses them because she was there and likely remembers them better than he could in his drunken haze. But, really, she thinks it's shame that fuels his silence. He still blames himself for not defeating Thanos sooner, she knows. After all, the half of their people they lost to the infinity stones may have miraculously returned, but the ones who died on the ship with him never did. But maybe even more than that, she thinks he still blames himself for all that he did not do after their deaths. When instead of honoring their lives and their deaths, instead of helping their living loved ones, he spent his time losing himself. 

Of course she knows that he could not help what happened to their people when Thanos first attacked them. But she also understands why he fell the way he did. She understands maybe better than anyone else ever could. Which means she knows that nothing she says will take that guilt away. She can only be there until he realizes that it's possible to move on.

  
  
  


“Why a coffee shop?” she asks at last. “Of all the things to become obsessed with opening, it seems the most random.”

“I _ like _coffee,” he says. “It was one of the first things I had when I came to Midgard,” he explains. She snorts, but doesn’t say anything else, waiting to see if he’ll give her the real answer. He takes a breath. “I suppose I want there to be a place where Asgardians can go to when they want to run away from their problems. A place that isn’t a bar.”

And just like that, it makes sense. After all, he was hardly the only Asgardian who fell into a bottle after the battle with Thanos and the loss of all their people. It’s hard not to when it feels as if you’ve lost everything and there’s nowhere to go but down. 

Still. 

“Do you think it would have helped you?” she asks. “Have ready access to coffee?”

She understands what he wants to do and she admires his vision — truly she does — but she doubts coffee would have kept _ her _sober when her world fell apart. Back when she wasn’t sure if there was even a reason left to go on living. 

He purses his lips. “Doubtful,” he admits. “But at least the people will have an option now. Somewhere else to go if they so choose.” 

It’s naive to think a single coffee shop is the answer to all of the trauma their people have suffered over the past few years. He knows this, she knows. But it’s also admirable that he wants there to be hope for those of them who now know they cannot numb their problems with alcohol. That he wants to create a place where they can feel safe from those problems, from their pain, and the temptation to bury them in all the wrong places. 

It isn’t the solution, but maybe it’s a beginning. 

  
  
  


Eventually she talks too. 

Partially because Thor, ever the Valkyrie fanboy, has boundless questions about the world he never knew. But partially because not talking would mean she’s still running away, and she promised herself she wouldn't do that anymore. 

It's gradual at first — little tidbits here and there, offhand comments when he tells his stories — but slowly she talks more openly. About the battles she would wage against planets that were once their enemies but are now their allies. About the way she watched Asgard change as Odin and Hela created their empire. About the time she would spend in Frigga's Court and the soft spot the queen had for her. 

About her Valkyrie Sisters.

And the love she lost. 

Sometimes she doesn't go into detail. Especially when it comes to the latter two. Doubts she physically can — it’s almost as if there’s a block between her memories and her mouth — but she does what she can in the moment. She doesn't know if this place she's at now, talking about it in fragments, is now is the start or the end or somewhere in between, but it's _ something _ and it's hers and it's a hell of a lot further than she ever thought she'd get. 

  
  
  


Even if their project didn't often result in their talks, there still would be no escaping how personal — how _ intimate _— it is to be working alone all night. Because the more time they spend together alone, the more it becomes impossible to ignore what had previously been developing between them. 

She doesn't just mean the physical attraction, though she thinks that was always fairly obvious between them. As annoying as she may have found him those first few days on Sakaar, there was no denying how annoying handsome he was (and still is). And, well, his attraction to her was about as subtle as thunder the summons.

But what she really means is that thing between them she thought was put to rest after Thanos. That thing they lost when he began his mourning and she her healing. That thing she sometimes still tells herself they missed and it's over and they need to let it go so they can focus on what they need to do to help their people.

Except then he does things like show up at her door, bright and early, after the nights they don't spend together, as if he's physically incapable of staying away from her for so long. He always comes bearing whatever latest coffee-based concoction he's working on, eager to hear any thoughts she may have. And he always has some sort of horrible pun-based name for them that she hates but he loves.

It would be annoying — it _ should _ be annoying — but then he smiles at her and it feels like something inside of her clicks into place and she knows this is exactly how she wants to spend her mornings.

  
  
  


She kisses him after they spend the entire night painting the coffee shop. 

They’re sitting outside, admiring their work, both disgustingly tired and possibly a little hysterical and covered from head to toe in splatters of paint. Over the horizon, she can see the sun beginning to rise for the day, which means they only have a few hours until they have to get back to their normal days’ work. And she knows that means she should get up and try to savor the little sleep she’ll be afforded, but she doesn’t move. 

“Thank you,” he says. “I know I’ve said it before but I mean it," he says. Before she can respond, he adds, "I truly cannot _ espresso _how much your help means.” 

She scowls. “I hate you.”

“Why?” he asks playfully. “Do my jokes _ mocha _you mad?”

He grins at her and for a brief moment she thinks he should have been the God of Sunshine because no one should have the right to be so warm and bright and comforting, especially when they’ve got paint smeared over their nose like that. But then she thinks if anyone has the right it should be him. 

And then she thinks _ what the hell._

When she kisses him, soft and almost lazily, her whole body basks in his warmth and she instinctively relaxes in his sunshine, and her lips curve into a smile. Fondly, she thinks this is what familiar feels like. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” she says afterwards, feigning seriousness. “I only did that to shut you up.”

Thor studies her for a moment, wanting to be certain she’s only joking. She rolls her eyes and lets her smile slip back. He grins again. “In that case,” he says, his hands cupping her cheeks, his fingers stroking the bits of her skin covered in paint, “If I say you’re _ brew-ti-ful_, will you do it again?” 

She kisses him again just so he won’t say it. 


End file.
